


The Loving Art

by SunlightSurvivor



Category: One Piece
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Humor, Lingerie, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-07 08:04:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13430481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunlightSurvivor/pseuds/SunlightSurvivor
Summary: Have you always been self-conscious about how to please your man? Do you wonder where you can find some new techniques? Or maybe you're new to the game, but just don't know where to start? Have no fear! InThe Loving Art of Fellatio,Mistress XO will teach you all you need to know to truly love him as he deserves. By the time you finish this book you'll know enough tongue-twisting techniques to reallyblow his mind.Order now with our special offer and we'll (discreetly) send you a copy anywhere on the Grand Line for only 20 berries!M. XO





	The Loving Art

Sanji was in the kitchen of the Thousand Sunny when Nami came in. She was weaing just a robe, as though she had just come in from a shower, although her hair was dry and up in a messy bun. Sanji, of course, brightened instantly when he saw her, smiling around a cigarette and reveling in the bubbly feeling he got whenever he saw her. 

“Good morning, my dear! How may this humble cook serve you today?” He said. He placed the Chef’s knife he had been using to slice pears down, and grabbed a towel off the counter to wipe his hands. 

Nami said nothing, only smirked. Sanji looked up at her, confused, and was about to say something when the oven timer dinged. 

“Ah, excuse me a moment, Nami-swan, the pie shells are done,” Sanji said. 

He turned and opened the bottom oven door, revealing half a dozen shells on two racks. Deftly grabbing the towel from the handle, he slid the lower baking sheet out from the rack and onto a cold stove burner. He repeated the motion with the other baking sheet, nodding to himself at the golden color of the pastry crust. 

“Sanji.”

He turned at the voice, surprised at how close Nami suddenly was. The smirk was still there, curling her lips. She looked like a cat who had just caught the proverbial canary. Her eyes glittered with mischief, and Sanji found himself gulping behind a nervous smile. Did she need something? Was she there to collect on the (eternal) debt he owed her? But why now? Why in a robe?

“Ah, can I get you anything, Nami-swan?” Sanji said. Nami said nothing, only widened her smirk to reveal her pearly white teeth. 

Then she disrobed. 

Sanji’s eyes bugged wide while his mouth dropped open, losing its hold on his cigarette. It fell soundlessly to the floor. His gaze instantly dropped to Nami’s revealed body; racy lingerie hugged every curve of soft, supple skin in a light caress. He could see her nipples through the sheer lace, which was twirled in intricate patterns with rose and daisy details. The seams curved up and around her ample breasts, converging on each nipple, drawing even more attention to the budding body part. The underwire cupped each breast lovingly, lifting them up into bountiful cleavage, an offering just for Sanji’s gaze. Bows and eyelets adorned the band, connecting to thin, lacy straps that flowered open in a balconette-style, one of Sanji’s favorites. It was like Nami had read his mind, picking up on his preferences and fantasies. Had she found one of his… “reference pamphlets”? 

“Like what you see?” Nami asked. Her voice was low. She let the robe drop to her elbows and shifted her weight to sway out her hip in an alluring pose. 

The garter belt hugged low on her narrow waist, mostly sheer in the same rose-detailed lace as her bra. The lace trailed down from a bow in the center of the hemline to the straps of the belt, leading down to the clasps of the garter itself. Those were attached to sheer blue stockings that looked as soft as silk. 

Underneath the garter were Nami’s panties, the hem curved low over her pubis. A cutout beneath that revealed skin even lower, the hint of red curls just visible at the bottom. A single lace rose covered exactly were Sanji wanted to be, the design flowing out from that central point. 

Sanji felt his body grow warm from the sight of Nami’s. He felt like he couldn’t look at her enough, his eyes roving over her form again and again, trying to commit everything to memory lest she suddenly decide to storm off. He wasn’t worthy to stare at her heavenly beauty, but he couldn’t break his eyes from her either; she was the grace that drew him in and the passion that engulfed him in flame. He wanted to stare at her for hours, he wanted to burn her image into his retinas, so he may always see her afterglow behind his lids and yet… and yet. It wasn’t enough.

He needed to touch her. 

Sanji felt his limbs tingle, his head buzz, and was amazed his nose hadn’t exploded at the sight of her. But, well, that blood was currently busy flowing to other areas.

Before he could move, Nami let the robe fall from her completely, stopping all thought and movement from Sanji. The robe pooled on the floor around her feet. She stepped forward on black stilettos Sanji hadn’t realized she’d been wearing. What was it about women and wicked footwear that made it one of the sexiest things ever? It made him want to drop to his knees in worship of her. 

Thoughts of her, standing above him in nothing but those shoes, riding crop in hand, smiling wickedly down at him while he could do no more than beg for her touch made him so hard so suddenly his head felt woozy. 

Nami shifted her weight and lightly placed a hand on a cocked hip.

“Well?” She said. 

It took all of Sanji’s willpower to wrest his gaze from her exquisite body. He stared dumbly into her glittering eyes, his mind blank. For an embarrassing amount of time he simply looked at her, until he blinked and realized an answer was expected of him. 

“I… um…what?” He said. 

Nami tittered behind a delicate hand before she stepped forward and rested it on top of Sanji’s shoulder. A light pressure from her caused him to take a step back. 

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes,’” she said. 

Sanji felt his heart beat wildly in his chest, electricity seemingly sizzle through his veins at the point of contact of her hand. He’d never seen Nami so assertive in her advances towards him. If he was honest with himself, he wouldn’t be sure he’d ever _really_ seen Nami make an advance on him at all. But he was far from thinking in those terms right now. All that mattered was that Nami was here, in lingerie, with her hand on him, looking at him with _come hither_ eyes. He was far from complaining about any of that. 

While he genuinely enjoyed doting on her, it was a relief to finally see Nami was returning his feelings. His heart was elated at that fact alone, but with her also being so forward? Well. His body sang with dark arousal. 

He jumped when his ass came in contact with the countertop behind him. The surprised jolted him to attention. 

“Nami, I…”

“Yes?” She said. 

Nami slid her other hand up and around his neck, holding him in a loose embrace. Sanji felt his mouth go dry and suddenly forgot what he was going to say. Did it even really matter? Nami was right here, nearly pressed up against him. She was so close. She looked so soft. And she licked her lips, looking up at him with… was that _desire_ he saw simmering in her eyes?

“God, you’re beautiful,” Sanji murmured. 

Nami ran her fingers up his neck and into his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. Sanji hummed in appreciation, dropping his head further back into her clutch. She rubbed her fingertips around in soft circles, massaging down onto his neck and then back up onto his head, slowing to eventually just play with the hairs at the base of his skull. 

Sanji brought his head forward from where he had been leaning into her touch. He opened his eyes. When had he closed them? 

Nami leaned forward, her lips slightly open. Sanji’s heart flew up into his mouth, nearly shaking with excitement. She was going to kiss him, oh _yes,_ she was gonna… Sanji leaned forward as well, ready to meet her lips with his. 

But at the last moment she moved slightly to the side, and ran her lips along his cheekbone in a barely-there caress. Sanji made a sound of disappointment before he could stop himself. He felt her smile on his cheek. Her one hand slid around his head to cup it beneath his ear while the other moved from his neck, over his shoulder, to scratch down his chest. 

“Do you like this, Sanji?” She said. 

“Yeah…”

“Would you like… more?” Nami whispered.

“Shit, yes,” Sanji said. He felt himself twitch in his slacks at the thought.

What more was there to say? Sanji cursed himself for being so classless, but his brain wasn’t working properly right now. All he wanted to was grab Nami and pull her close. To run his palms along her curves and soft skin. To feel the texture of the lingerie and the eventual silkiness of her skin when he slid his hands _beneath_ that lingerie…

But apparently, his body wasn’t working either. His back was frozen in a rigid line, his hands stuck gripping the counter. He could feel Nami’s heat as she stood in front of him, but he wanted more, wanted her flush up against him so the curves of her body met the planes of his. He wanted to feel her breasts up against his chest, her hips rocking into his. He wanted to shift his leg so it slid between her thighs, where he could feel that hot, liquid heat. 

But something was wrong with him, preventing him from even dipping his head forward to kiss her. And suddenly Sanji realized just how desperately he wanted—no, _needed_ —to kiss her right now. 

Nami seemed to read his mind, grabbing his lapels with both hands. She pulled herself up against him. He could feel the hot puffs of breath as she moved her lips along his jawline in feather light touches, teasing, ghosting, _cruel_.

Sanji heard himself whine. He could kick himself for that embarrassing move, but Nami didn’t seem to mind. She only chuckled, pressing a more insistent kiss to the side of his neck. She trailed her hands down his front and wrapped her arms around his waist in a touch that was still much too loose for Sanji’s preference. 

“Is something wrong, Sanji?” Nami said, still mouthing at his neck. 

“Please, Nami,” Sanji whispered. 

He wasn’t entirely sure what he was asking for, he just knew he needed it. Needed it _now_. 

“It’s okay, Sanji,” Nami said. 

She stepped back, snatching away Sanji’s beloved pink apron. Well, that explained the loose embraces from before; she had been untying the apron. She cast it away and then hooked nimble fingers into the top of his trousers. His belt buckle jingled as she played with it. “I think I can help with that.”

Sanji gasped, his mind reeling. His body hummed with hopeful anticipation. By now he was so hard he ached. If he didn’t get a touch, or at least a chance to release himself from his pants, he thought he would go insane. 

His prayers were answered, if only slightly, when Nami’s hand brushed against his bulge as she unbuckled his belt. His hips bucked uncontrollably at the feeling. Nami smiled and looked up at him, pausing once the buckle was undone. She took two fingers and lightly, so lightly, traced them up along his length through his pants. The pressure was faint, but it stopped his heartbeat for a moment nonetheless. It was like an electric jolt, zinging up his veins through his chest and into his head. 

“Nami,” Sanji began, but before he knew it, she had unzipped him and snaked a hand in to palm his erection. Sanji sucked in a breath through grit teeth. Finally, he felt a modicum of relief for the intense ache. But at the same time, it also almost made it worse. 

He needed more. So much more. 

Sanji hissed when Nami drew his cock out into the cool air. She touched along the leaking tip with a finger, looking up at him with a coy smile. 

“Should I be mad you’ve been keeping such an impressive secret from me for so long?” Nami cooed. 

Sanji felt himself swell with male pride, and let out a huff of air in lieu of a disbelieving laugh. He couldn’t believe he was hearing such a lewd innuendo coming from Nami’s lips. He wouldn’t have thought it was real if she weren’t standing there in front of him. But boy, did he enjoy it. It was reassuring that she was finally reciprocating his gestures. Despite his perverted antics, Sanji genuinely wanted to express his love through his sometimes… vulgar displays. 

“S-Sorry…” Sanji said, watching as her finger circled the head of his erection. It glistened with precum. He bit back a whine building in his throat, entranced by the fact he was actually being touched by Nami but also needing so much more. 

Nami suddenly pulled her hand away and Sanji nearly whimpered at the loss of touch. His eyes followed her hand as it moved up and up, curving over in an arc to slide her finger into her mouth. Sanji stared at her with wide eyes. Nami’s cupid’s bow lips wrapped around her finger while she kept direct eye contact with him, suddenly drawing it out of her mouth with an audible _pop!_

“Perhaps I should punish you,” Nami said. 

She smiled and ran her deep pink tongue along her bottom lip. Sanji watched the movement with rapt, hopeful attention. His jaw dropped when she slowly— _slowly_ —slid down his body to her knees, placing her hands on either side of his pelvis. His erection twitched, bobbing in front of Nami’s smiling face. 

Sanji gripped the counter tighter, his knuckles nearly going white, and found it difficult to draw in a breath. This was a sight he’d never thought he’d see, a pleasure he’d never thought he’d experience except in dreams. Had he died and gone to Heaven? It was vulgar and dirty, the things he dreamed of doing with Nami, but he could hardly be blamed for it. It was out of _love_ , these dirty thoughts of his. And Nami, of course, was divine in her beauty and alluring with her fiery passion. And to think she wanted to do these dirty— _dirty_ —things with him!? It was almost too hot for Sanji to handle. 

“Such a naughty boy,” Nami said. 

Sanji swallowed, excitement striking through him. He knew it was disrespectful but god _damn_ he loved dirty talk. 

And then Nami opened her mouth and suddenly swallowed Sanji’s erection. Sanji nearly blacked out from the pleasure and groaned loudly. He tried to watch her with her lips wrapped around him, moving up and down along the length, but when she wrapped her fingers around his base and began to pump in time with her mouth he couldn’t help but close his eyes and let his head drop back. 

“Oh God, Nami,” he said. 

The pleasure was exquisite. Her mouth was so hot and wet, and her tongue curled around him in the best of ways. He could feel as she pressed it up against the vein on the underside of his cock, the pressure causing him to shudder. She pulled her mouth off of him. Before Sanji could protest, she pumped him with her hand while lathing his sensitive head with the flat of her tongue. Sanji panted. Nami curled her tongue up so the tip massaged along the slit of his cock. 

Sanji let out a loud moan and tangled his fingers in the locks of her hair. He knew it was rude, he knew it wasn’t gentlemanly or chivalrous and that he shouldn’t do it, but he just _had_ to touch her, to hold on to her in some way. He opened his eyes and looked down at her, ready to apologize. 

Nami only smiled up at him and wrapped her mouth around him again. She drew him in, deeper this time, and _sucked_.

Sanji cried out in surprise, not prepared for just how fucking _good_ that would feel. His hips bucked uncontrollably and his hand grasped at Nami’s head. He expected her to stop and yell at him—and he wanted to apologize for his lack of control—but she just continued bobbing her head and sucking. Sanji drew in ragged breaths. Pleasure rippled through him in ever-increasing intensity. 

The sounds Nami was making around his cock were positively lewd, and Sanji felt a little ashamed at how much they were turning him on. But holy _fuck_ it was hot, hearing _her_ mouth slurp sloppily around _his_ cock. 

She sucked in her cheeks, creating more suction on his member. Sanji groaned at the vulgar, arousing display. Nami began varying the pressure and twisting of her hand pumping at the length of him she couldn’t fit into her mouth. 

Once she started to alternate between shallow thrusts and deep swallows, Sanji felt the pressure in his core begin to grow. 

By now Sanji’s grip in Nami’s hair had twisted into a grip on the back of her head, gently pulling her down on his cock at every bob of her head. Before he could help it, Sanji found his hips bucking to match each of her thrusts, forcing his cock a little bit further down her throat. He was supremely impressed that Nami wasn’t gagging or choking, but still felt a little guilty. 

“I’m sorry Nami,” Sanji panted. “But I can’t seem to stop.”

Nami hummed in response, the vibrations filling him at such a deep level his head went fuzzy. Sanji somehow knew that meant she didn’t mind, and found himself thrusting a little more insistently at her mouth. That heat was raging within him now, and all he could do was chase it. 

Nami increased the pace of her bobbing, and Sanji quickened his thrusts to match hers. The heat and wet of her mouth had his mind buzzing, and her sucking engulfed his body in burning heat. Pressure at the base of his spine was mounting, and soon he wouldn’t be able to hold it back anymore. 

He was close. He could feel it. 

There was no way to stop now, even if he wanted to. He was pushing forward, closer and closer to that sweet release. But it still wasn’t enough. 

“Oh _fuck_ , Nami, I’m gonna—!” Sanji groaned. 

At first Nami appeared to ignore him, keeping up with her pace. But then she stopped after pulling her head back, leaving only Sanji’s tip between her lips. Sanji nearly yowled in frustration. She couldn’t stop now. He was close, so fucking close! He only needed—he just needed…

Suddenly Nami shoved her head forward, engulfing him completely in her throat. Her nose pressed up against Sanji’s trimmed, blonde curls. She grasped his pelvis, swallowing at his length. He felt her throat pulse around his cock. 

Sanji cried out, feeling his eyes roll back into his head. Oh god, it felt so good, Nami was so good, he was close—he was gonna—

 

_“FUCKING PERVERT!!”_

A shove. A yell. And a crash.

Sanji groped at the floor, his head ringing and disoriented. Frustration and anger thundered in his veins like his heart beat. His vision was dark but winked with bright, floating stars. It took him a few moments to realize Nami was gone and that he was being yelled at by a distinctly male voice behind him. 

“Goddamn fucking _idiot!_ If I have to listen to you moan that blasted woman’s name in your sleep one more time I’m gonna fucking _pummel_ you!”

Zoro was sitting up in his bunk, a sneer pulled across his face. Sanji’s bunk was swinging around above him. One of Zoro’s legs was hanging off the edge of the hammock, and he glared daggers at the man on the floor. It didn’t take Sanji long to realize Zoro had, quite literally, kicked him out of his own bunk. It certainly explained the disorientation and the ache in his shoulder. 

_Another_ part of him ached, too, but he wasn’t about to mention that aloud. Sanji gnashed his teeth. Of _course_ it had only been a dream. It really had been too good to be true. Disappointment cooled some of the tightness in his abdomen, but sudden anger quickly heated his blood in a different manner than before. Couldn’t he at least be allowed to enjoy his own fantasies!? Couldn’t he at least have _that!?_

“Fuck off, Mosshead,” Sanji snarled. He picked himself up off the floor, making sure to continue to face away from the swordsman. His body still hadn’t quite calmed down enough to be presentable yet. 

“No, fuck _you_ , you fucking pervert. I’m so sick of listening to you _every goddamn night!_ ” Zoro said. He made no attempt at keeping his voice quiet. 

“Shut up! My dreams are my own business!” Sanji said. He slid over to the table, groping around in the dark for his cigarettes. Zoro growled in exasperation. 

“Not when you announce it to the whole fucking ship every night!” He said. 

Chopper and Brook stirred in their bunks. Luffy and Usopp continued to snore from theirs. Franky snoozed on the floor, no longer able to fit into a bunk with his bulky body. 

Sanji tried his lighter a few times, adrenaline from his dream making his hands shake. 

“Only because you’re yelling about it now!” Sanji spat. 

“What are you, 13? Why are you even still getting wet dreams?” Zoro said. Sanji spluttered in embarrassment. 

“Fuck off, shithead!”

“What’s going on?” Chopper mumbled. Brook had sat up, and Usopp turned his head toward the noise, rubbing his sleepy eyes. 

“Just go rub one out like a normal person!” Zoro said. He flopped back into the hammnock and shoved a pillow over his face, clapping it to his ears. “And do it somewhere else! Somewhere _not here!”_

“I’m not discussing masturbation with you!” Sanji said. The thought of talking about sex with Zoro was disgusting enough to effectively kill any residual arousal he still felt from his dream. But not the frustration. 

“What the hell? Why are you guys yelling about masturbating?” Usopp said, sitting up.

“I’m not yelling!” Zoro yelled. 

“No one’s talking about masturbating!” Sanji said. 

“Masturbating? Who’s masturbating?” Franky suddenly said, waking up with a start. 

“Zoro and Sanji,” Brook said. 

“NO WE’RE NOT!!” The two snarled in unison. 

By some miracle, Luffy didn’t wake, continuing to snore in his bunk. A beat passed. 

“I just want to fucking sleep, but Curlybrow here’s continuing to be a _sick, perverted dumbass,”_ Zoro said. 

“Yeah, because you _definitely_ don’t get enough sleep lazing around the ship all day,” Sanji muttered. Zoro snatched the pillow off his face and jumped up in rage. 

“I’LL KILL YOU!!”

“Perhaps we all just need to take a moment to cool down,” Brook said. He had hooked his cane in the back of Zoro’s shirt, preventing him from catapulting himself at Sanji. 

“Don’t worry, I’m already leaving,” Sanji said. “Unlike _some_ people, I’ve actually got a _job_ to do on this ship.”

As Sanji left the men’s quarters, he heard Zoro roar in fury while he wrestled with what sounded like everyone except Luffy. 

“Fuck you, you shitty cook!” Zoro called through the door. 

Sanji sucked a long, hard drag on his cigarette. He was frustrated, embarrassed, and angry, but he would _not_ rise to the bait. In a way, he understood where Zoro was coming from. And it wasn’t like Sanji got off scott-free from the situations either; his sleep was becoming worse and worse, the more intense the fantasies became. 

Moving up onto the deck, the cool air felt nice on Sanji’s heated skin, calming him slightly. He took a moment to revel in the feeling, letting his heart rate return to something resembling a normal rhythm. He glanced at his watch and groaned. 

4:17 am. 

He was up over an hour before his alarm was set to go off. Not only did he have his normal kitchen duties for the day, but he also promised to help Robin in the library that afternoon. Not only that, but tonight it was his turn for first watch. In a turn that surprised no one, he had also agreed to cover Nami’s shift as well, meaning he really was just on watch all night. 

It was going to be a long day. 

Sanji sighed and made his way up to the library. He had to pick up his grocery budget for the next week, given to Nami to approve the day before. And there were a few recipes he needed to reference for the dishes he wanted to cook today. 

Sanji flicked his cigarette overboard before climbing up the ladder into the library. Lifting the hatch door, he peered over at Nami’s desk in the faint, predawn light. He clambered into the room and over to a bookshelf. He picked a volume off the shelf and moved back to Nami’s desk so he could lean against it. A sigh escaped his mouth. 

“It had been such a nice dream…” 

A wry smile twisted his lip. 

“And I didn’t even get to finish it…”

As Sanji flipped through his chosen cookbook— _The Golden Knife: Cuisine of the Aeolian Archipelago of the West Blue_ —one of his handwritten notes fell out. It fluttered down, slipping into a slightly ajar drawer in the desk. Sanji made an annoyed sound at the back of his throat. He pulled the drawer open a little wider. Sure, Nami was going to be irritated he’s gone through her private drawers—and she would _definitely_ know—but she would be much angrier if he just left his papers lying around.

In the low light, Sanji had a hard time seeing into the drawer. He dug around, trying to find his note by feel. There were many papers in the drawer, likely to be lists of calculations and geographical data. He groped around some more, trying to be as non-obtrusive as possible. 

Proving fruitless, Sanji finally pulled the drawer open completely to peer at the dim contents. He shuffled through the papers, leafing through the documents. He scoffed in annoyance. 

“C’mon, seriously? Shitty, stupid note,” he grumbled. 

Sanji dug into the drawer to pull up the full stack of papers, hopeful the note had fallen to the bottom. As he did so, he realized he had pulled back a piece of map board acting as a type of false-bottom to the drawer. 

Sanji raised his eyebrows in surprise. Obviously Nami was hiding something. That fact in of itself didn’t bother him—Nami was a private person after all—but Sanji found his curiosity piqued nonetheless. 

Besides, he’d gone this far already. 

Sanji looked down to see a slim volume lying innocently at the bottom of the drawer. The cover was all black with a white title in flowing, fancy script. Sanji thought he could make out the word “love” in the font, but the letters were small.

Now he _had_ to know. 

Nami was reading about love, huh? Sanji smiled as he gingerly picked up the volume. His mind was racing with possibilities of why she would be reading about love. Despite her hard-edged façade and avaricious act, Sanji knew she was a romantic at heart. Perhaps she wanted to learn how to better express it? Perhaps she was finally enamored by the romantic’s lifestyle? Sanji was a star model for that, after all. Sanji felt a pang from the memory of his dream—perhaps she was finally ready to reciprocate his feelings for her?

Sanji shook his head at the outrageous thought. Wishful thinking, for sure, but a man can dream, can’t he? A man can _hope._

Sanji peered at the title with a sad smile on his face…

…and proceeded to nearly drop the book in shock. 

He gripped the book with both hands, bringing it close to his face to read the title again. And again. And again. And just to be extra sure, he stumbled over to the window to stare at the book with the brightening dawn light. The title stayed the same. It was, undoubtedly, unequivocally what he read the first time. 

_The Loving Art of Fellatio,_ written by one Mistress XO.

Sanji’s brain short-circuited. 

He moved robotically, his mind blank, as he returned to the desk, mechanically placing the book back in its hidden place. He made sure the papers were as he found them, and closed the drawer just enough to leave it slightly ajar. 

He abandoned his search for the note, and left the West Blue cookbook on the corner of the desk. He made his way down the ladder to the deck. He pulled out his lighter, flicking it a few times absently. Then he put it down and pulled out a cigarette. He put it in his mouth. He took it out. He looked at it and then put it behind his ear. He returned his lighter to one pocket, then pulled it out and put it in another one.

A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth, one that did not falter for the rest of the day, no matter how exhausted he became.


End file.
